Dragonfly
by TomatoBomb
Summary: How unprofessional of me. Short GC story, preCSI.


**DRAGONFLY**  
by Mickie; 04.08.22 

------------------ 

This is wrong; I shouldn't be here. My feet don't seem to want to take me away, no matter how sternly I inform them of their error. The phrase "just five more minutes" pops into my head and I smirk at its appropriateness, or would that be inappropriateness? The atmosphere has affected me and it's getting harder to tell now.

Curiosity is a part of the job, isn't it? So why shouldn't I be here if only out of curiosity? I suppose it's alright put that way. Now I just have to convince myself it's out of curiosity.

Surely it is though, right? It's only natural to want to meet the genius who scored so excellently on the CSI Level One exam last week. I want to welcome her to the team in person, not over the phone, that's so impersonal. I want to make a good impression.

Right?

Oh, please, why couldn't she have a different job? But after all, this is Las Vegas.

I catch a glimpse of her across the room from where I'm hiding and vaguely notice the club hush for only a moment, then resume raucously as the music starts up again. It's easy to tell they've all been waiting for her, not so different from me.

_ Run away from all your boredom  
Run away from all your whoredom and wave  
Your worries and cares  
Goodbye _

The crowd of men before me cheers and whistles as I dance my number. I'm used to the routine by now so my mind is left to wander. I think about a lot of things on stage. My clearest thoughts come to me then, juxtaposed by the reality of my physical location. Funny how life can be sometimes.

I know he's here, of course, standing in the corner across from me. I can tell he doesn't want me to know, so I leave it alone. Well, maybe I dance a little more enthusiastically but tell myself I'm just energetic tonight.

Right?

He just watches me and though I can't see his eyes, I sense that he doesn't hold this against me. He doesn't seem to be like that. Maybe he notices me spying him because he steps forward an immeasurable step. For a second, I see his face. Maybe I will like working for him after all, I think, smirking to myself. But no, he wouldn't be like that, he's better than the men here.

I must have looked away for a second because when I look back, he is not there. Maybe I'll see him outside tonight.

Maybe.

_ All it takes is one decision  
A lot of guts, a little vision to wave  
Your worries and cares  
Goodbye _

The night feels refreshing after being in the smoky club all that time. I stand beside my standard-issue Tahoe parked at the back, by a dumpster, and contemplate my state of mind. I would slap myself on the forehead if the realisation hadn't hit me already that I was too sane for that.

She saw me and she'll probably think the worst of me. How insensitive I am for sneaking a glimpse of her old life. How unprofessional of me. Bosses shouldn't see their subordinates in such a state of undress. That's what she'll think.

Right?

Well, maybe I can make it up to her. I know she's special, different, worth the best. Maybe she'll see how nice I can be and then maybe we can be friends.

Maybe.

_ It's a maze for rats to try  
It's a maze for rats to try  
It's a race, a race for rats  
A race for rats to die _

Finally, my time is done and I'm free until tomorrow night. After removing most of my makeup backstage and changing into my street clothes, I stand still for a moment, unsure of what to do. As I walk into the night outside, a silly thought comes to mind that I should plan my grocery list for the week.

Then it's gone, and my mind can't seem to find anything else to ponder. My heart chips in with its two cents and I am left wondering what's happened to me and when it was that I turned soft.

But I know when. I saw him, processing a scene across from the club. I don't think he ever saw me watching, so lost he was in his world of science and questions. I was there too, but invisible.

I didn't want to be invisible there anymore. And here I am, about to leave this life behind and start one I should have long ago. Maybe in that life I'll find something real.

Maybe.

_ Sick and tired of Maggie's farm  
She's a bitch with broken arms to wave  
Your worries and cares  
Goodbye _

High-heeled footsteps hijack my train of thought, which is then completely derailed when I turn to see their owner. She looks different, dressed in normal clothes and makeup. I like her better that way.

I know I shouldn't think that. How unprofessional of me.

It's been a few seconds but it's not awkward. She stands ten feet away and smiles. My hand that was by my side raises a bit in a half-wave and I smile back. She walks over and stands next to me.

"It's nice out tonight, isn't it?" I realize I've never heard her voice before. I like it.

"Yeah." I've never been very sociable.

"So I guess I got the job, huh?" She's looking at me now.

I wonder how she knows who I am, but I leave it alone. I smile instead. "Yeah, you did."

_ It's a race, a race for rats  
A race for rats to die _

It was the answer I expected, but I grin anyway with newfound glee. My life really is going to change for the better. I want to think it's because of me, and it is. It's a rare event when the best case scenario favours me.

I have a sense that will change.

It occurs to me in the middle of my mind-rambling that I don't know his name. It never seemed to matter before, but now strikes me as funny.

"I'm Catherine Willows," I offer, extending my hand. I know he knows.

"Gil Grissom." He shakes my hand and looks at me.

I pretend the chilly wind is responsible for those shivers up my spine. Too bad it's a still night.

"So when do I start?" I ask.

"Immediately," he states simply and I get the impression he doesn't use more words than absolutely necessary.

Seven of them and I feel that I know him, though.

We both stare ahead for a few minutes, standing still. It's odd but comforting, in a way. I suddenly feel as if Gil Grissom is my oldest, dearest friend. I know I shouldn't think that. How ridiculous of me.

"Feel like celebrating? I know a great place for breakfast." His sudden amiable sentence and use of more than two words surprises me and I ignore the bittersweet tugging in my chest. Maybe it will go away.

Maybe.

_ It's a race, a race for rats  
A race for rats to die _

Catherine and I ate pancakes the size of small islands. She cut them into perfect squares and drizzled strawberry sauce evenly over every piece. We talked all morning and in every sentence, I discovered something new about her. She's amazing that way.

The next night, she was at work with me. She fit right in; didn't have the eagerness of a rookie or the exhaustion of a veteran. She saw right through her first case, cracking it in record time. She's brilliant that way.

Breakfast every day after shift ended, talking across tables. It wasn't long before I invited her over, something I never do. It wasn't long before we really talked, then didn't need to. It wasn't long before we became closer, then I fell in love with her.

How unprofessional of me.

Maybe.

_ Burn away  
Run away, run away  
Run away, run away  
Run away, run away  
Run away, run away _

------------------end.

**NOTES: **This was my first CSI fic and I don't know what to think of it now. I was trying to write a story with the word 'maybe' as many times as possible. heh, no. Anyway, the title is from the Azure Ray song, and the italicized lyrics in the story are from "Slave To The Wage" by Placebo. Some constructive criticism would be loved!


End file.
